


Too Many Fairytales

by sleepypercy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frotting, M/M, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepypercy/pseuds/sleepypercy
Summary: Just a 13-year old Sam trying to seduce his older brother with lollipops and too-big hand-me down t-shirts.





	Too Many Fairytales

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spn-masquerade Round 5 on Livejournal for this prompt:  
>  _Dean doesn't wish Sam was a girl. But he likes lending him his too-big t-shirts. He likes Sam's long hair enough to argue with their dad when John says he needs a haircut. Maybe a little eyeliner. Sam loves to do everything Dean wants. (top/bottom doesn't matter, Sam maybe 12 or 13)_
> 
> Original posting can be found [here](https://spn-masquerade.livejournal.com/8997.html?thread=3324453#t3873573)

Dean blames too many fairytales. He read Sam all the classics, every tale with a hero and a monster. He’d just wanted his brother to know what a hero was, so that when he found out what their father did, he’d be proud.

He read to Sam long after Sam was probably a bit too old, but it was a small comfort when their dad was away and they were stuck in a hotel room. When Sam was ten, Dean picked up a copy of the Knights of the Round Table. Sam snuggled against his side on the couch that night, transfixed by the ornate pictures and poetic verses. His fingers traced the flowing long sleeves of the ladies of the court, petted at the long dark hair with flowers plaited around the crowns.

The next day, Dean found Sam behind the motel building where some wild sunflowers and daisies were growing, braiding a clumsy, oversized flower crown that he happily slipped onto his wild mop of hair. When he noticed Dean standing at the corner of the building, he blushed and pulled the crown off, tossing it behind him and hurrying past Dean into their motel room.

Seeing his brother like that stirred something inside Dean, made him think about how pretty Sam was, how perfect those flowers looked in his still baby-soft hair. He grabbed the crown and followed Sam inside the room, hung it on the edge of the bed headboard for Sam to find later. 

When their dad came home the next day, he found the drying flower crown, picked it off the headboard, and threw it away. He didn’t say anything, but gave Dean a slightly disgusted look. The next week, he told Sam he was getting a haircut. Sam pouted, as usual, and usually Dean would tell Sam to listen to their father. But it felt important, somehow, and Dean argued back that Sam’s hair grew like weeds, it cost too much to give him a haircut every month, and John was a crap hairdresser. They might as well let the kid’s hair be for a bit, it wasn’t hurting anyone.

“Check your tone, boy,” John warned, but he let the subject drop, didn’t bring up Sam’s haircut for another month, and seemed to just accept that his youngest son’s hair was never going to be as orderly as John demanded everything else in their life be.

When Dean went from fifteen to sixteen, his skinny shoulders started getting wider, along with everything else as he started gaining muscle. It was partly due to the strict regime their dad kept them on, Dean pushing himself extra hard, always trying to impress John, make him proud.

He grew out of his shirts quickly, handing everything down to Sam (whether it fit or not). Sam was growing, but not quite as quickly as Dean. The shirts tended to slip off one shoulder, and Dean thought Sam liked it that way. That summer, Sam kept lounging around in shorts and those too-big shirts, bare legs swinging off the side of chair or in a pool when they were lucky enough to get a motel with one. 

Somewhere, Sam had picked up a pair of purple plastic sunglasses, and he’d pull them out while sunbathing on a chair by the pool, usually with a book in his hand. He also had a bag of lollipops that he’d asked Dean to pick up, sucking on the sweet sugar heads while reading, long legs stretched out. He got mistaken for a girl more than once, although he’d quickly correct whatever motel guest had looked at his tan legs, loose tops, and cherry flavored lips and assumed female.

It made Dean uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t pinpoint but that probably had something to do with the way Sam smiled and licked his sugar red lips every time Dean came out to the pool. 

+++

“I’m bored,” Sam whined to him one day inside the motel room. John had left them over a week ago, and with school out, and Dean unable to get Sam to a library yet, they were both going a little stir crazy. 

Dean was lounging on the couch, creaky fan aimed at him and all the windows open.

“Run some laps,” Dean said, not opening his eyes.

“Don’t wanna.” Dean could hear Sam collapse in front of him, on the floor, and sigh loudly. “It’s so fucking hot.” 

“Watch your language,” Dean said, although his tone was mild. It was more instinct than real reprimand now that Sam was getting older. 

Sam sighed again, loudly, then grabbed at Dean’s leg, shaking it a bit. “Pet my hair,” he demanded.

“God, Sammy, I don’t wanna move, my balls are so hot they’re sticking to my leg,” Dean grumped, but he was already moving, bored enough to give into his little brother’s demands just to have something to do.

Sam practically purred when Dean’s fingers ran through his hair. He nuzzled back between Dean’s thighs and threw an arm over Dean’s knee, blissfully content.

Dean’s fingers were idly slow, fingernails running against Sam’s scalp, his fingers petting down to the nape of Sam’s neck, brushing against Sam’s bare shoulder. Everything was so soft, so pink flushed and golden. 

Sam lolled his head down to Dean’s knee then turned to face him, dopey little grin on his face. 

“Hey – what’s that?” Dean reached a couple fingers out, pressed them to Sam’s mouth, shinier and pinker than normal. They’d run out of suckers last week.

His fingers came back sticky.

“Just some chapstick,” Sam answered. The kid was such a bad liar. 

“Bullshit.” Dean’s mouth twisted a bit wryly. “When did you steal lipgloss?” 

Sam huffed a bit, head still nuzzled into Dean’s leg. “I only put a little bit on. And I didn’t steal it. It was $1.50 at the gas station we stopped at two towns ago. I had some money.” 

Dean nodded and made some kind of humming noise, thinking.

“Do you like it?” Sam asked softly, and Dean could hear the thin layer of vulnerability there, ready to crack at the slightest touch.

Dean’s eyes flew back to Sam’s mouth, and he swallowed hard. God, he couldn’t answer that. He shouldn’t answer that. But he couldn’t hurt Sammy, either.

“It’s nice,” Dean finally said, quietly, and Sam beamed.

+++

It was too hot for Dean to think straight. The little slip of Sam’s delicate shoulder and the way his hair brushed over it. The shine of Sam’s mouth these days, just a shade pinker and wetter than normal. 

He ended up going out one night on a food run, stopped by a bar to try to hustle a bit, stretch what money John had left them and definitely wasn’t going to last them another week. Thankfully, he got lucky, pocketed another $50 before he slipped out the door. 

One of the bartenders was outside taking a smoke break, and her eyes slid to him, mouth parting lightly as she looked him up and down. 

She tasted like cigarettes, but she was a hell of a kisser. Dean let himself get lost in her for a while, but he didn’t wanna go too far. He still had food to buy and a brother to get back to. The girl rolled her eyes but shrugged when he said he had to go, sorry darling, I’d stay if I could, you working tomorrow? 

When he got home, Sam was pouty and whiney, like he expected. The kid perked up when Dean pulled out his favorite cereal, but then the kid got close enough to smell the smoke and notice the lipstick smears, and he got pouty all over again. 

“I, uh… got you something else,” Dean said, hoping to break the tension. Sam warily turned his way, and Dean hesitated for half a second before holding out a thin pencil of black eyeliner. 

Sam took it, wordlessly, put it in his pocket, then grabbed an apple and took it to his bed, decidedly not speaking to Dean for the rest of the night. 

+++

Dean woke up to something warm snuggling into his side. Eyes still closed, he reached out, felt a bare, smooth shoulder, and rubbed a hand over it before pulling it closer. It took a moment of muddled thought to realize that he hadn’t, in fact, gone home with that bartender, and when he opened his eyes, he found Sam under his arm, eyes sleepy and bedhead sticking up everywhere. He had on an old Metallica t-shirt of Dean’s, collar stretched even wider, maybe even split open, one side falling obscenely low down Sam’s arm.

“Whatcha doing?” Dean asked, voice a little sleep hoarse. 

Sam held on more tightly and sighed. “Sleeping.” 

Dean reached down to brush the wild, loose hair out of Sam’s eyes, pausing as he pushed it back. “Is that the eyeliner I bought you?” 

“Mmmhmm.” 

Dean’s hand was still on top of Sam’s head, holding the kid’s hair back so he could examine Sam’s make up more closely. The black was put on thinly, smudged just a little bit, probably from all of Sam’s cuddling. It made his eye color look even more stunning, bits of gold and green catching in the morning light creeping around the curtains.

Dean knew the question on Sam’s tongue even before his brother opened his mouth to mumble, “S’good?”

“Yeah, Sammy.” Dean’s voice was low, rumbling in his chest, and he felt Sam’s hand press into the sound. “It’s really pretty on you.”

Sam’s little fingers flexed against Dean’s chest just before he leaned in, nuzzled up to Dean’s face, and kissed him. 

Sam was softer, sweeter, and better than any girl Dean had ever kissed. He didn’t know if his brother had some natural talent, or if it was just because it was Sammy. Either way, Dean knew he shouldn’t do this, and it took all his willpower to push his brother away.

“ _Sammy_.” Dean pulled away and shook his head, not even sure how to tell Sam how fucked up this was. 

Sam’s eyes went into instant kicked puppy mode. “Deeeannn.” Sam slipped a leg over Dean’s stomach and kicked himself over to sitting, legs pressing into Dean’s hips. “I’ve been trying all summer to get you to look at me.”

“I’m always looking at you.”

“Yeah. But…” Sam licked his lips and tried to press his wet mouth back into Dean’s. Dean pulled back, but Sam just nuzzled into the side of his neck, throwing his arm around Dean’s chest. “I just need you,” he said softly.

That empty place inside Dean, that gnawed at him every day, filled with something warm at how much he wanted to believe that. 

Against his neck, Sam made soft little huffs, and it took Dean a moment to realize that he could feel Sam’s hard-on against his leg where Sam was trying to softly grind.

“It’s ok,” Dean said, putting an arm around Sam’s back, encouragingly, and Sam’s soft huffs started stuttering into something louder and harsher as he humped Dean’s thigh harder, hands turning into fists, trying to grab onto Dean, grinding in hard, desperate movements. 

It wasn’t that long before Dean felt Sam tense up, eyes fluttering back as he made a short, harsh gasp and came against Dean’s thigh. Rubbing his brother’s back, Dean started murmuring soothing sounds, telling Sam it was ok, he’s ok, just breathe. 

Dean’s not sure what made him do it, but as soon as Sam’s breathing started returning to normal, he reached down, needing to feel that tangible proof. His fingers slipped into Sam’s shorts, wiping up a stripe of warm, wet come. 

Sam dark-lined eyes were wide, and before he could overthink it, Dean pulled his hand out of his little brother’s shorts and stuck his come-sticky finger into Sam’s pink mouth. His nose wrinkled for a moment, but then, staring at Dean as he did so, Sam licked his tongue around Dean’s finger, sucking up every drop before swallowing.

“God, Sammy,” Dean said quietly, and a tiny hint of dimples indented Sam’s cheeks. 

He let Sam doze for a few minutes before making them get up for the day. Dean had no idea how he was going to handle all the repercussions, but he knew he was going to have a hard time keeping his hands off his little brother.


End file.
